|
Wages
A short story by
Claire Girvan
Bless me father for I have sinned and now I am hurt and half
dead and it serves me right, because didn't you teach us
that the wages of sin is death?
And all the time I was sitting at the back of the class
giggling with my mates and getting told off for not paying
attention and a belt off dad for crummy reports and you know
I didn't mean to be that bad, I went to Mass on Sundays and
I said my rosary and everything and I learned my
commandments, although I know I broke some of them
especially the swearing and using God's holy name, but it
was only because we all did. I didn't mean anything by it, I
always felt guilty, father, does that count, because guilt
is the one thing you never shake off, it's the way God keeps
a hold of you isn't it?
And when I made my confession you said I shouldn't wear my
skirts so short and my hair so long but I liked to look nice
and I never meant any harm, because did you know I always
thought I was going to be a nun, until Joey Taverner kissed
me round the back of his garage, touching me till I felt all
hot and melting? And I knew what I was doing wasn't right if
I was going to be a nun, but there was suddenly more to life
than I'd imagined and I thought what the hell I'm still only
young and I thought I would maybe leave being a nun till I
was older, so I wore my skirts that way and swished them
about in front of the boys, but I was only doing what all
the other girls were doing. We never thought anything of it,
it was just a bit of fun, only maybe it was wrong, because
the boys came after me with their wicked eyes and fumbling
hands and I liked it father, and the married ones too
sometimes and I let them because I thought a wife was no
concern of mine, but I never will again father I promise,
because he was the last one and the best, the one I really
loved, I really did.
He wanted me to go away with him so I did, and I don't know
what he told his wife and I didn't ask, and he got a weekend
off for it and he wore jeans and a blue shirt, I'd never
seen him in them before, he'd bought them new specially, and
oh father he looked lovely, and I wore a new flowery dress
all yellow, and my high heel sandals and my hair down and
all perfume on my wrists and my neck. And he drove us out to
this lovely little place in the country, miles from anywhere
so no one would know who we were, and it had dark beams and
shiny brass things over the fireplace, and I said shouldn't
we call ourselves Mr and Mrs and he said nobody bothered
about that any more, and the lady in reception didn't care,
why should she? She was really nice, and asked us did we
want breakfast in bed in the morning which I've only ever
done when I've been ill and he said yes we did.
And we had our first meal together that night in the dining
room with little windows out onto the garden and a big sofa
in the corner, and a nice waitress, and I hadn't sat at a
table and used a knife and fork since I was at school, so I
watched how he did it. And we had steak chasseur with
mushrooms, and he said it meant a huntsman, I don't know
why, and red wine called Merlot and we played footsie under
the table so the waitress wouldn't see until I thought I'd
go mad.
And we could hardly wait to get upstairs to our lovely attic
room, with its little diamond pane window so you could see
the garden down below and the tiny white bathroom like a
cupboard with sliding doors and the toilet roll folded into
a V at the end and a nice sloping ceiling with a little
skylight in. And he bumped his head on the beam when he was
getting undressed, and I laughed and he threw me on the bed
onto the big pillows and dark red satin bedspread and
tickled me for it, and after that it was like losing myself
and it didn't feel wrong father, it didn't, it felt as right
as can be.
There was a storm in the night, but we didn't care and we
just lay in bed and watched the rain coming down stair rods
outside and running hard off the skylight window as if it
was going to come in and the lightning flashing and counting
the thunder to see how far away it was. And he said he felt
as if he was married to me, and I said I felt the same, and
father I really did, and then we did it again and he slept
in my arms the rest of the night, and I didn't sleep, not a
wink at all, just held him and listened to him breathing,
and the thunder getting further and further away.
I saw the sun come up in the morning and heard the birds
starting to sing, and oh I'd never felt so happy father, and
they brought us our breakfast on a trolley, full English and
toast with marmalade and honey in a beehive with a twizzly
little stick and a pot of coffee all on a nice clean cloth.
And I said if we were married we could do this every day and
he said well at the weekend anyway because what about
getting to work, and he smiled, cutting his fried egg into
slices and mopping the yolk with bread and spreading
marmalade really thick on the toast, and it was lovely
watching him. And when we left he paid for both of us even
though I'd said I'd go dutch, and he said it was his treat
and the rest of the day was all mine and where did I want to
go, and I said oh anywhere, let's just drive.
So we just drove, and the countryside was all wet and
sparkly in the sunshine, and we were sending huge waves up
from the puddles at the side of the road, holding hands and
singing and not caring about the speed or the roadworks till
it was too late, and the car was skidding on the mud, going
sideways and turning over, and I heard him shouting hold on
and saw his hands all white they were so tight on the wheel.
And I didn't even scream like they do in the films, I
couldn't because I was just this great silent mass of terror
holding on saying holy God holy God over and over, and I
could see him pulling at the wheel as the car rolled over
until I thought it was never going to stop. And then it did
and his head sort of flopped sideways against the window and
I knew he was dead, and then I screamed because every part
of my body was on fire with pain, and there was blood
everywhere and I thought I was going to die too, and I
wanted to, father, I wanted to, I don't care if it was
wrong, I did.
And when they got me out I went on screaming until they
strapped me down on a trolley and said I was going to be all
right and then everything went dark, until I woke up here.
And I haven't died and they keep saying I'm going to be
fine, but I'm not and I'm never going to be, and half my
bones are broken and my face is ruined, and I don't care
because my heart hurts worse than any of it, and I am guilty
as hell for doing what I did, only it's all right father,
I'm getting my punishment for it. I know you never get the
better of God, he's a right hard bastard like my dad.
Whatever you do sooner or later God will get you for it and
what good is it you praying for me because it was all my
fault and the wages of sin is death all right, like you
always said. Only it wasn't me that died, and it should have
been because he was the one beautiful thing in the world and
I don't care if I'm damned and go to hell for it because the
last person I ever want to see ever in my life is God.
END
Top
|
